Within five miles of Rodney, Helen, happening to precede the wagon, was suddenly confronted by a scout who cried, "Halt! Whither?" She responded, "To Rodney," and with rare presence of mind added the ambiguous language of her old guide, Mr. Firth, in the hope of repeating the password, which in reality was unknown to her; and before the scout had time to interrogate her further she asked him in whose command he was, if there was any news, and trusted that he would be _vigilant_ in his duties. At once he respectfully touched his hat and turned to halt the party in the wagon, which was now just coming up. Helen, turning in the saddle, cried out to Mrs. Clayton, "Mother, I'm glad to see you safe thus far on our journey, as we are within sight of Rodney." Completely deceived by this ruse, the scout permitted them to pass on without further parley. In another hour the party stood on the brow of the steep bluff overlooking Rodney, up whose slope the climbing roofs of that city are built, and Helen for the first time gazed on the waters of the Mississippi. The following morning she went to the bank of the river and, sentinel-like, awaited the welcome appearance of a gunboat. Soon she was rewarded by discovering one approaching. Vigorously waving her handkerchief, she had the gratification of seeing her signal recognized. A small boat was lowered, and in charge of an officer in Federal uniform was rowed toward the young girl on the shore. After the usual salutations Helen made her wishes known, and was awaiting the officer's reply when she was most unexpectedly interrupted by the voice of Mrs. Clayton, who had come behind her unobserved, and now, with unmeasured volubility, detailed all her grievances to the officer, whether domestic or otherwise, adding a long tirade of abuse, and even attributing the loss of her husband, who had died peacefully in his bed, to Federal interference.